The vine, then, turned into a creeper lurking and crawling up to my ear from the other side of the phone.
“Look, his wife died of cancer not long ago. His parents passed away one after another last year. All these funerals, none of us went. Now he died without a word, but with three children. How can I rest my conscience if I don’t go? How can I call them one day if the same thing ever happens to us?”